Dragonborn of Prophecy
by TheBoldestInk
Summary: A collection of shorts that I am writing from the point of view as Dragonborn, the character played in Elder Scrolls: Skyrim.
1. The Thief

A heavy sigh can be heard. The very land is breathing hard, quaking with the bearings of her children. The jovial little cries of the battle-ready children are in accordance with the sighs. A cold land; harsh and unforgiving. Filled with the evils of man and the serenity of the Divines is this earth. Skyrim is her name.

And let it be known that the speaker which speaks now is no ordinary mortal. I am not to be trifled with, nor am I to be simply ignored. I am a warrior, a thief, a ranger, a mage, a smithy, an alchemist, a werewolf, a vampire, kinsman, and outsider. Whatever you make me to be. But no matter what race I am, what skills I possess, or the choices I make, I will always be one thing, assuredly. Dragonborn.

I've been in this tunnel for what seems to have been half a century. Draugr's were at every turn, and no matter how many doors I may pass through, the depths of the cave are unseen by my eyes. What was I thinking? I am no warrior, fit to battle with the undead. I am not a fortune seeker, unless it lay in the pockets and homes of my victims. I am a petty thief, not even joined up in the ranks of the Guild.

Riften, as corrupted as it is, was no place for me. I could not carry on, not with all the skeever feces and the Black-Briar's. Heh. Shit and Black-Briar's. One and the same. So I left, and decided it was a good idea to try my luck with looting ruins, caves and catacombs. This brings me to this present moment. I, the Dragonborn of prophecy, am now tied up in a lowly bandit's trap, because I, a petty thief, was not as cautious as I should have been.

If ever I escape, I should like to purchase one last whore from a brothel in the Rift, one last bottle of spiced wine from Solitude, and hear endlessly the song of my people, the Nords of Skyrim. Perhaps I should have listened to my father, who hastened me to train with blade and shield in arms, and go to a college to become another warrior willing to bleed for his homeland. It would have been a much more honorable path, and would have been something to please my father before his untimely death. He died with honor, as a Nord should. The jarl had called for a fellowship of men to journey to the Autumnwatch Tower to slay the terrorizing dragon. None returned.

I decided to venture forth, seeking revenge upon the destructor of my father. That battle nearly killed me. For my strained efforts, I learned a shout which has proven useful. _Krii_ of Marked For Death. I have since learned _Lun _and_ Aus_, and have made very good use of it. The Greybeards turned their heads in shame when they saw that I had learned such a dastardly shout. "To know a shout is to _be_ a shout." they told me. Still, it did not compare when I asked to know of Dragonsrend.

Because the path of the Dragonborn was not one which pays well, I took up thievery. It pays off, actually. I managed to get my hands on a book containing the Guild's secret symbols, which makes taking their loot and avoiding them all the while that much easier. I remember, before I knew of those marks, I once tried to loot a home in the Gray Quarter. Worst outing I ever had. Not only did I end up getting arrested for it, but there was nothing to be had from that shambles of an abode.

Ah, yes. The trap I am now encased in. It's rather flimsy, but sophisticated enough that its leverage is too much for me to overpower in my current position; upside down in a net, feet tied and face smashed up in rope. I can hardly breathe. Have ever you been in such a spot? It's horridly uncomfortable, to say the least.

I do not know how long I stood there, waiting for my captor to come and release me. Hours? Days? Perhaps even weeks, for all I care to know. At last, a most lovely woman with a carnal look in her eyes, fur flung about her and the comings of a beard on her chin. Yes, very lovely indeed. Still, who am I to judge? With my strong jaw and sharp eyes, I am not nearly fit enough to evaluate the worth of a bandit's physical attraction. That would make me inconsiderate, would it not?

The woman came closer, her grungy teeth showing dimly in the firelight. She scrutinized me, picking me apart with her eyes as a vulture does carrion. Coming from a grown man, she put me off. I almost shook in fear. Almost. Coming from a grown man, she still made me feel that familiar twitch and hardening. Coming from a man who hadn't made love in weeks. Her body was just fine; sculpted from years of raids and killing, keeping the woman fit. If I just closed my eyes…

"Lovely woman you are. Perhaps if you untie me I can make you feel just as lovely as you look." I said flatly.

The look she gave me. Her head snapped up, eyes locking with mine. She immediately reached to cut me loose. It would seem I wasn't the only one lacking sexual contact. That sent me up a little bit more, knowing that she wanted me that badly. Knowing that she was already down on her knees. Knowing that finally, at length, I was going to get what has been denied from me for weeks on end.

The woman had removed the wolf pelt from her fur bodice, allowing a better view of her body. She was more a barbarian than a bandit, judging from her primal need for me. I moaned in pure pleasure. She was working me like a real expert. Perhaps she was a prostitute before this? I reached down to grab her chest, eager to work away the remainder of her armor. She smirked and moved my hands away from her. The grinding of her breasts was replaced by her mouth.

With total attention on me, the woman was driving me crazy. I started grunting uncontrollably, and soon thereafter the bandit began expressing a need for release herself. Attention was taken off of me, the removal of it going towards her.

No way was I going to be going anywhere near there. This was probably one of those women who expected everything out of there partner, clingy sex and all. One of those women, that despite having a toughened exterior, had ulterior motives and sought to control a man with her genitals. A woman who trapped men with fake pregnancy and marriage. A woman I despised.

"Keep sucking." I growled, reassuring her that I was now in control.

She didn't stop until I ejaculated on her. She didn't stop until I reached down to slit her throat. She stopped when she realized that she had been played by a petty thief, and that because of her promiscuity and desperation, she had let out her captive. I, the Dragonborn, the petty thief, the Nord, had gotten myself out of a kink and gotten sexual ascending out of it. So much for being a failure in every aspect.


	2. The Warrior

The shaking of the very soil you stand upon is evident. Waves of change are coursing to exfoliate the land of impurities. Screeching can be heard in all corners of the land. This is a land which has heard many of the very same losing of the souls in such shouts, and has many more to listen to. Sweet and melodic? No, harsh and scarring. No endearing wives are here to soothe the aching of their men. Just the rattling of bones as the cart tows them closer to their final resting place.

Am I to be ignored? To be left in the rot and soils of the cities of these people? I am, I am. Am I to be acknowledged for my achievements of great and grand tale? To be kissed and hugged and rejoiced for at a banquet meant to herald my triumphant return? I am not, I am not. They ignore the fact that I am the Dragonborn of prophecy, the one sent to save their souls and land. And yet, I am alone.

I still can't believe it. A man I thought to be rather close to me has left. Just like that. Why? Another woman. A little jingling of the coin purse and an absence of the gleaming ring on his hand led that girl straight to him. I had no chance. So I sit idly by, taking all the doled out hits rather passively. Much too passively indeed.

Sneaking really isn't my style. But that bastard is going to pay for what he did. I was left in peaceful ignorance while he went on with his little whore. The whole goddamn town knew. A meager little farming community and you'd have thought one of them would be pious enough to point out such rash infidelity. A terrible rage roared through my robes and organs; I am ready to tear him apart.

The click of the door. He's here. Is she with him? More than likely. Dammit! The little slut, the little whore, bigot, wench, sadistic-!

Wait. No. This is perfect. Both of them, together. I untied Hellfire and Malice from my belt. Daedric war axes will never let you down when you intend to kill… close ones. Especially when they're enchanted axes, and will cave your enemy's skulls within seconds. Jandir will more than pay for his affair. As will she.

The sound of footfall coming up the steps. My weapons are at the ready, and prepared to cut through the very marrow of the couple. Is it Jandir by himself? I think so. I'm going to find out. He's almost at the crest of the stairs. I can see the tip of his head. I step forth suddenly, swinging the axe down on his head before he can even reach the next step.

Blood. Divines, I'd only ever seen so much blood from slaying a troll.

Pleased with the slaying of my enemy, I stood over the bleeding corpse for what seemed like hours. I was awoken from my trance when the crack of the front door sounded. I couldn't help it. I whimpered loudly and froze to where I was standing. I'm going to be caught. Everybody will know it was me. Who else had reason to kill him?

The bearing of a torch lit the room, and Jandir's face was below me, frozen in the middle of stepping up the stairs. Staring. He was just staring at himself sprawled over the stairs, bludgeoned and dead. I took the liberty of looking down at Jandir's body too. No, that wasn't Jandir…

Jandir merely looked at me now, not knowing what to do. His mouth hung open, dried out and unclear what words it should form first, if any at all. So much time passing. I was going to go insane if he didn't say something soon. I needed his approval. I needed _him_.

"Jandir. Come with me. We can leave. Together. Nobody else. I'll help you build a cabin in the woods. We're both warriors. We can hunt. We're meant for each other, Jandir. _Meant_ for each other."

His voice was steady and scarily calm. Eyes never leaving the body. Hands not shaking the torch. Legs not quivering, standing strong.

"She came here to tell you that we're no longer together. She came here to apologize. To give money and service of servitude and pledge never ending faith to you. To give up her life to be forgiven. To leave and never come back. I came back to make sure you had taken the news well. To hug you and tell you that I was wrong, so wrong. To kiss you and tell you how much I loved you. And that together we could get through this. But you killed her, and none of that can happen now."

He doesn't want to be with me. I'm alone. I'm not going to give him the pleasure of joining her in the afterlife. He's going to suffer through this without me, and still, he will suffer with me. I will haunt his every memory until his dying day. I'll make sure of it.


End file.
